Needle and Thread
by run-and-remember-me
Summary: When Castiel is attacked by a djinn, it's up to Sam and Dean to save him from his own paradise. Now, Castiel must chose between a lifetime of fantasy or the harsh realities of living as an angel. Destiel. Based on a Tumblr prompt. Fluffy/Angsty Oneshot. Please review!


Confusion didn't even begin to cover what Castiel was feeling at the moment. Even through the layers of fabric under his trenchcoat, Castiel's skin buzzed at the touch of Dean's hand to his shoulder. It was the same scene Castiel frequently envisioned when he was human. He used to revel in the moments of blissful slumber—that is until he would awaken from his peaceful dreams and realize none of it would come to fruition. He would always wake up. He would always know deep down that it would never happen. And so he continued to be of service to the Winchester brothers, believing that by fighting alongside each other, he could one day regain Dean's trust. Despite all of his wishful thinking, Castiel never actually expected something so intimate to happen between them.

"What's the matter, Cas?" Dean asked. The smile that graced his lips only moments before was erased, instead replaced with an intense look of concern. "I thought you'd be glad to see me."

Castiel hesitated in his response, immediately sensing something was amiss with this version of Dean. He seemed different, though Castiel couldn't quite put his finger on what it was.

"I've just had a long day," Castiel replied, extricating himself from Dean's grip.

"That makes two of us," Dean said weakly, his smile returning. "So what do you say we play some Scrabble?"

A weight sank in the bottom of Castiel's stomach—a weight that couldn't be retrieved no matter how strong he was. This wasn't real. Absolutely no one knew about Castiel's secret fondness of Scrabble. It was the inner workings of his brain and something he never shared with anyone. That could only mean one thing... He was trapped inside his own mind, stranded in his own paradise.

"Actually, I think it would be best if you catch up on your sleep," Castiel answered. "It can't be healthy to pull those kind of hours without getting enough rest on the weekends."

"Really?" Dean asked, brightening at the suggestion.

"Yes," Castiel responded. "We can play Scrabble another night. You need some rest. Besides, there's the new season of _Idol_ to catch up on."

"Yeah," Dean agreed with a grin. "Okay."

"Have you had dinner yet?" Castiel asked in concern.

"I didn't even take a lunch break," Dean admitted. "I'm starving."

Castiel could say this much for certain: No matter what universe, Dean Winchester would always be available to eat. "Don't worry about it," Castiel said, grabbing his keys from the table and heading toward the door. "You can stay here, and I'll get take-out from the burger place down the street. I'll be back soon."

As soon as Castiel was out of the apartment building, he sensed someone had followed him. If you asked him how he knew, he wouldn't be able to explain, but somehow Castiel could feel his paradise crumbling down from the inside. "You know, dream root is kinda hard to come by," a familiar voice said from behind.

"Sam," Castiel said, turning to face the man's voice.

"You're lucky we still had some in stock at the bunker," Sam said. "You're also really lucky that I talked Dean out of coming in here himself. But I've got to say, it's nice. No apocalypse. No monsters. Is this really your happy place, Cas?"

Castiel looked away, ignoring everything that confirmed what he already knew. "Yes," he admitted.

"So...," Sam continued. "You know that a djinn is feeding on you right now?"

"Yes," Castiel responded, averting his eyes from Sam again.

"I've never seen a djinn feed on an angel before," he commented. "I guess there's a first time for everything, huh? I wonder what kind of mojo he's got after dosing up on angel spirit."

Castiel looked at the cement under his feet, watching intently as an insect quickly scuttled out of sight. That was how he felt every day, coming to the surface for air only when he was desperate enough for it. Pushing down his feelings the way he'd been taught by the most honorable human he knew—Dean. He held his head up again to meet Sam's gaze.

Those eyes that so often changed colors bore into his, and Castiel knew the wisdom and empathy they held. "You know it's not real, right?" Sam said with a sad smile. "He's not real. None of it's real."

"So?" Castiel replied weakly. He knew it wasn't real. But none of that mattered. Because he had a chance to restart his entire life. Hitting the do-over button was difficult for a human. But for an angel? It was impossible. This was his only chance to change his life, and if that meant dying in here with Dean, then it was damn sure better than dying alone.

"Wow," Sam remarked. "So you're willing to sacrifice the real Dean for a fake one that you just made up?"

"It will feel like a lifetime in here, Sam," Castiel explained, grasping for almost any excuse to stay. "A lifetime. Of peace. With Dean. Even if I die in here, I can't imagine a better way to go."

"I've never thought of you as selfish, Cas. Never. But that is the most self-centered thing I've ever heard you say," Sam snapped. "Just for a second, imagine yourself back in the real world. Think what would happen if we lost you. I would miss having you around. But Dean? The real Dean. He would be climbing up the walls trying to find a way to bring you back. Hell, Cas, he sold his soul to bring me back. Imagine what he'd do for you!"

Castiel knew the truth, but he wasn't ready to face it yet. Instead, he asked Sam, "Do you want something to eat?"

Sam sighed in desperation and replied, "Sure, Cas. Let's get something to eat."

They walked down the street in silence. Somehow, Castiel was attuned to what direction to go. Perhaps because they were in his mind, he knew the map better than anyone.

Nevertheless, they found their way to Biggerson's Beer and Burger, a parallel restaurant conjured up in Castiel's mind. It was very similar to the franchise Biggerson's in the real world. However, it had the small-town charm of the diners Castiel had grown to love.

When they had placed their orders and located a table, Sam spoke again. "Nothing here is real, Cas."

"I know," Castiel said slowly, getting up when their order number was called. A Juicy Lucy with a side salad coupled with a bacon cheeseburger-Dean's favorite.

Castiel approached the table again, setting the platter of food next to Sam. As he bit into the cheeseburger, he sighed at the familiar taste of red meat.

"Cas... There's a way out," Sam said quietly, resting the silverware next to his salad. "Old wives tale goes... you'll wake up when you're on the verge of death in a dream. I know it works. Dean...," he paused for a moment. "Dean's had a run-in with one of these things before."

Castiel continued to nibble around the edges of his burger. "Did you bring an angel blade with you?" he asked.

"Of course," Sam replied, withdrawing the knife from his coat and passing it to Castiel.

He examined it, turning the blade over in his hands. It was one of the few weapons ever designed to kill angels, and it could take away everything Castiel had ever wanted since he saved Dean Winchester from an eternity of torture.

"You're sure this will work?" Castiel asked. He desperately wanted the answer to be no, but Sam was confident. If you are dying in a dream, you will wake up before you are dead. "Okay," he agreed before plunging the angel blade into his chest.

The world turned dark. Castiel's head was spinning into oblivion until he suddenly snapped awake. His eyes widened and he gasped for breath as he realized he was in the same dingy basement he last remembered. Sam was lying on the hard concrete next to Castiel, his limbs splayed across the floor. He heard an anguished voice in the distance, shouting for something.

"Cas!" Dean repeated, shaking him in desperation. His hands gripped Castiel's shoulders, but this time the touch felt much less intimate. " _Cas_! Listen to me. Don't you _ever_ do that again."

Castiel nodded in agreement and shock. This was the real Dean Winchester. Those were his real green eyes filled with fear and panic. Those were his real hands undoing the latch on Castiel's wrists. And that was his real voice explaining how he'd killed the djinn, and later barking orders at him—only because he cared so much.

When the latch finally broke, Castiel found that not only were the shackles holding him in place, they were the only thing keeping him upright. He hadn't felt this weak and helpless since he was fighting for his life in purgatory. Castiel collapsed to the ground, and Dean quickly caught him before he hit the concrete.

"I thought I lost you, man," Dean said finally. Sam stirred next to them, mumbling something incoherent to Castiel. "Sammy?" Dean asked, turning his attention to his brother lying on the ground.

"Yeah," Sam grunted. "Been awhile since I've taken dream root."

"Let's hope you never have to again," Dean said with a look in Castiel's direction as he helped his brother to his feet. "You strong enough to help me carry Cas to the car?"

"No," Castiel interrupted. "I can walk. Just give me a hand here."

Dean shrugged doubtfully but extended his hand anyway. Once he hauled Castiel to his feet, a mix of stupidity and stubborn dedication got him to the Impala's backseat.

The ride back to the bunker was a long and silent one, tension looming over them like a dark cloud. Castiel and Sam seemed to have an unspoken agreement not to mention anything that happened in the djinn's dreamland, and Dean appeared to have no desire to find out.

Somewhere on an abandoned highway, Dean grew tired of the silence and turned the radio on as loud as he could tolerate. There was something about the vibration of his favorite Deep Purple song that seemed to calm him down. As for everyone else in the car, it only worsened their distress.

The truth was something had stirred inside of Dean when he found Castiel pale and unmoving, tethered to the ceiling by shackles. Something primal and instinctive had awoken in him, and he could barely contain his fear. Dean was overwhelmed with relief that Castiel was okay, but it scared him... more than he'd care to admit.

When they finally arrived at the bunker, it was late at night, and Castiel was mentally exhausted from sitting in wait of Dean's lecture. How he shouldn't go hunting on his own. How even angel powers can't protect amateurs. But it never came.

Of course, Castiel should have known better than to think Dean would actually be open about how he felt. If anyone was an expert at suffering in silence and keeping their opinions to themselves, it was 19th-century women and Dean Winchester.

"Dean...," Castiel tried. "I'm sorry."

"Cas!" Dean snapped. "It's okay. We got you back. Now go inside and get some rest."

Both Sam and Castiel were obligated to follow Dean's orders, and seeing as how they had been driving all night, they thought Dean would be exhausted too. But as soon as they were out of the car, Dean restarted the engine.

"Where are you going?" Sam asked. "We just got back."

"Out. I'm not tired," Dean replied tersely, hitting the gas pedal and speeding away.

Castiel swallowed and nervously approached Sam, who appeared to be more than annoyed at the onset of his brother's moodiness. "For what it's worth," Castiel began, "I'm sorry for what I've put you two through tonight."

"It's fine, Cas," Sam replied with a distracted expression. "Dean's just... out of it. That's all."

Castiel nodded in understanding. In other words, he should've stayed in the djinn's dreamland. Castiel would have been much happier, and he wouldn't have caused the Winchesters so much pain and trouble.

"If you'll excuse me, I think I'll go to bed now," Sam said tiredly. "I've just had a really long day. And Cas?"

"Yeah?" Castiel asked.

"Don't wait up for him," Sam said with a wistful smile.

Castiel shifted uncomfortably, straightening his trenchcoat as he decided to educate himself in the Winchesters' liquor collection. He strode inside to the cabinet in the library that contained the alcohol. He opened it and realized there was a small collection within, though it wouldn't be nearly enough to take the edge off a celestial being's emotional distress.

He reached for the bottle of whiskey on the shelf, locating the glasses on top of the cabinet and pouring himself a measure from the fifth. Castiel brought the alcohol to his lips, but before he could taste, he made the mistake of inhaling the scent. It was a scent he'd initially hated, though it had grown on him over the years. In fact, Castiel had come to love the smell of whiskey so much, the merest whiff of it made him think of Dean.

He turned the glass up and downed it in one angry gulp. The whiskey seared down his throat, burning in the same way his tears burnt from holding them back. His mind was afire with rage and jealousy of Dean's sense of freedom—but at the same time, Castiel felt compassion and empathy for him. Dean was only seeking companionship. His desire for speeding down the road to the nearest bar to have casual intercourse with a stranger was fueled by an insatiable need for companionship. Needless to say, it was difficult for a guardian angel to show such affection.

It seemed nothing Castiel did was ever good enough. No matter the circumstances, he found himself always making it up to Dean. But he didn't know what it would take to fix something this painful.

Castiel contemplated the thought of why it was painful for Dean. Perhaps his paradise wasn't entirely impossible. He knew that he cared deeply for Dean, though he would never understand how to convey that love and respect in human terms. There was something different about love between an angel and a human—something the needle and thread of this universe didn't quite allow. And maybe that was the lesson in all of this... Some things just aren't meant to be.

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A/N: Thank you so much to those who read all of it! This was a brainchild I conceived last night and worked very hard on to complete today. XD Reviews are greatly appreciated.


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